Happy to have a home

It's been four years now that I've been out of high school. Four years of not living in the house that I spent the first 18 years of my life in. Every year, when I go home for breaks, it seems less and less like my house is my home. I feel like a visitor in a hotel with really friendly owners. I come back with my bags full of clothes, and never really unpack them. My apartment at school is more my home now. But that doesn't really feel like home either. I guess in some sense of the word, I'm homeless.

The more I think about it though, this apartment is my home, I have friends here in Cortland that I consider family, people that have seen all sides of me, good and bad, and they accept and love me for it, and isn't that what makes it feel like home?

Maybe it's the fact that I'm real tired, and I had a couple drinks, and I'm listening to Radiohead that's making me feel all emotional, but right now as I look out my window at the snow falling on a cold world, it feels pretty damn good to be cozy and warm in my home, knowing that I'll wake up with people that I enjoy being around. Whatever "home" even means, and wherever it may be.